Forty-fifth Entry [Dream]
[You know how Poland's first dream was all rye fields and ponies and happiness? You know how the event said they were going to get worse as time passed?]
[His got a lot worse.]
[He wakes up, suddenly, out of another dream and into this one, standing face to face with a mirror. In the refection, he looks like little more than a skeleton with skin, clothes hanging limp and dirty on his body. He looks down at his hands and body in shock, but they look normal.]
[With a sigh of relief, he turns to leave the room, but before he gets to the door, everything shakes violently. All of a sudden, he can hear the roar of fire and what he now recognizes as gunfire, and people shouting in German and Russian.]
[He can feel his people again, but not as they were before. Desperate, grieving, wounded, dying, starving, tortured--]
[He fumbles for his rosary, trying to think. Hail Mary, full of grace... There's got to be a way out--he can go find his boss (who is his boss now?) and figure out how to deal with all this... A back door appears in the room he's in, and he goes for it, hoping to sneak away]
[Instead, he bumps into a broad chest and looks up to see Germany, blocking the exit and looking back down at him with hate and contempt. Backing away, he bumps into something softer, but possibly almost as terrifying--what's Russia doing here? And to either side, Prussia and Austria are filling in the gaps, leaving him with nowhere to run.]
[He tries to push Austria down and run away from them, but Germany grabs him by the back of this shirt, tosses him like a ragdoll into the floor. There's a flurry of boots hitting him, and everything smells like fire and death, and he can hear the Major's voice, telling how inferior he is, how his people are "polluted", how killing them is for the best... He tries to struggle, but Russia holds him down.]
[By the time they decide to give kicking him a rest, he's as thin and worn as he was in the mirror when this dream began. He's bloody and injured and he tries to get away again, but Russia pulls him close, arms behind his back.]
[The other nations crowd around like vultures, their features twisting and becoming like the demons the Major brought down on him. Their hands are on him, and the Major is laughing, and he feels sick with shame and fear and helplessness.]
[His got a lot worse.]
[He wakes up, suddenly, out of another dream and into this one, standing face to face with a mirror. In the refection, he looks like little more than a skeleton with skin, clothes hanging limp and dirty on his body. He looks down at his hands and body in shock, but they look normal.]
[With a sigh of relief, he turns to leave the room, but before he gets to the door, everything shakes violently. All of a sudden, he can hear the roar of fire and what he now recognizes as gunfire, and people shouting in German and Russian.]
[He can feel his people again, but not as they were before. Desperate, grieving, wounded, dying, starving, tortured--]
[He fumbles for his rosary, trying to think. Hail Mary, full of grace... There's got to be a way out--he can go find his boss (who is his boss now?) and figure out how to deal with all this... A back door appears in the room he's in, and he goes for it, hoping to sneak away]
[Instead, he bumps into a broad chest and looks up to see Germany, blocking the exit and looking back down at him with hate and contempt. Backing away, he bumps into something softer, but possibly almost as terrifying--what's Russia doing here? And to either side, Prussia and Austria are filling in the gaps, leaving him with nowhere to run.]
[He tries to push Austria down and run away from them, but Germany grabs him by the back of this shirt, tosses him like a ragdoll into the floor. There's a flurry of boots hitting him, and everything smells like fire and death, and he can hear the Major's voice, telling how inferior he is, how his people are "polluted", how killing them is for the best... He tries to struggle, but Russia holds him down.]
[By the time they decide to give kicking him a rest, he's as thin and worn as he was in the mirror when this dream began. He's bloody and injured and he tries to get away again, but Russia pulls him close, arms behind his back.]
[The other nations crowd around like vultures, their features twisting and becoming like the demons the Major brought down on him. Their hands are on him, and the Major is laughing, and he feels sick with shame and fear and helplessness.]